How to Live a Nightmare
by PhoenixofFire177
Summary: FrUk one-shot. Set to the song Breakeven by The Script. Arthur cheated once, long ago. Over the course of a year, he goes insane. Can anyone bring him back? Rated M for self-harm, drinking, attempted suicide, and extreme depression.


_I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing. Just praying to a god that I don't believe in. I got time while she's got freedom. Because when a heart breaks, no it don't break even. _

He sat on the edge of the bed they had once shared. Now, he was alone, in a house that had once been so filled with life and love. The house was dark now, empty. A pitiful reminder of what had been. Of what would never be again.

_Her best days will be some of my worst. She finally found a man that'll put her first. While I'm wide awake, she's no time asleep and… and when a heart breaks, no it don't break even. _

There was a picture still on the wall. It was painful to look at, it reminded him how much he had failed. Of when the one he cared about most walked out on him and left him alone. Alone and depressed. A shell of the man he used to be.

_Oh, what am I supposed to do when the best part of me is always you? And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're okay? I'm falling to pieces yeah, I'm falling to pieces, I'm falling to pieces._

He no longer knew what it was like to not be hurting. Every reminder, every memory now made his life a living hell. Even breathing hurt. He felt as if the absence was killing him, slowly but surely. If that was the master plan of his beloved, it was certainly working.

_They say bad things happen for a reason. But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding. Cause she's moved on while I'm still grieving. And when a heart breaks, no it don't break even, even no._

He curled up in a ball, sobbing his eyes out like he had for six months now. Pain and agony had just become two synonyms for life. Misery, withdrawal. His two best friends. It hurt. Every smile he had to fake, every forced laugh. It did nothing but stop his friends from worrying. A living lie to satisfy those who he had no desire to please.

_What am I gonna do when the best part of me is always you? And, what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're okay? I'm falling to pieces, yeah, I'm falling to pieces, yeah, I'm falling to pieces (One's still in love while the other's leaving) I'm falling to pieces (Cause when a heart breaks no it don't break even)_

He sat at home, staring at the angry red cuts lining his arms like a sick work of art. The razor blade was left in a puddle of liquid, metallic to the taste. And of course he would what blood tasted like. Every diagonal sweep with the offending blade caused him to bite down on his lip until the pale face was stained red from the top lip on down. A bottle of wine sat nearby, half empty of its contents. The label had been ripped off and now hung from the bottle as if trying to remind him of its original purpose. He growled at the memory. His former love had no right to be invading his thoughts like this. Not today. _'Maybe they left because of what you did.' _A small voice nagged. '_After all, you were the one who cheated. And on your anniversary too!'_ It was his fault. He was the one who cheated. The one who failed. God, he couldn't even look at himself anymore. _'I'm sorry love…'_ He whispered as more blood welled from the newest cut. This time however, the bleeding was figurative as well as literal.

_Oh, you got his heart and my heart and none of the pain. You took your suitcase and I took the blame. Now I'm trying to make sense of what little remains. Ooh, because you left me with no love, and honor to my name. _

He lay there, unmoving on the bathroom floor. There was an empty, shattered bottle next to him. A telltale sign of what he attempted to do. Blood covered the white tile, staining it a ghastly dark red. An old picture of him and his ex-love was in his hand, his fingers wrapped tightly around the frame. He had seen _him_ again. Him and his new lover. His brother, Allister and… Francis. God, the sight of the French blonde with someone else had forced him to the brink of snapping. He had congratulated himself on keeping a cool head until the couple was out of sight. What he hadn't known was that the said Frenchman had seen him and was extremely concerned.

_I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing. Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in. I got time while she's got freedom. And when a heart breaks no it don't break even. _

Francis walked into the darkened house and called out for his old friend and former lover. He walked around, very surprised at the way the house looked. Nothing had changed since Francis had walked out, and that had been a year ago. He continued to walk around the house. He stopped in front of a particular picture. In the frame was the two of them, smiling. He smiled faintly and a single tear rolled down his face. It was the same picture he kept by his bedside. All this time, Francis had tried to see other people. He had honestly tried to move on. But throughout all of that, he just couldn't bring himself to admit that he no longer loved the man who had cheated on him. And right now, he knew why. He loved him. It was as simple as that. Francis resumed his search with renewed vigor. He finally stumbled upon a ghastly scene. His love lay in a puddle of bright red and broken glass. He held in a gasp of horror and was by his side in an instance.

_What am I supposed to do when the best part of me is always you, and what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're okay? I'm falling to pieces, yeah, I'm falling to pieces. I'm falling to pieces…_

Arthur Kirkland had woken up in the hospital with the man he loved by his side. He didn't remember much, and he felt it was better for him that he didn't. He tried to get up, only to have a worried Frenchman pull him back down.

"You need to sleep mon cher." Francis stated and finally Arthur gave in. Every time he had slept for the past year had been filled with nightmares, but with the Frenchman beside him, he felt at peace. Gentle snoring told him that Francis had fallen into the clutches of sleep. Arthur looked over at the sleeping form next to him. The same form that had forced him to the edge of insanity and brought him back. Arthur smiled, an honest, real smile. The first one in a year.


End file.
